Sapphire and Steel
by pinkish-red hearts
Summary: Euphemia Lannister leaves her home, the sunny Sapphire Isle to meet her betrothed in icy Winterfell. But when an unexpected event causes Lord and Lady Lannister to hesitatingly leave their daughter by herself in the North, Euphemia deals with meeting her husband-to-be alone. Will they fall in love or apart? (I changed it from crossover to regular for more exposure)
1. I

**Author's Header: GAME OF THRONES! GAME OF THRONES! This fandom has become my third child, and after this gifset during Hayffie week, this idea wouldn't leave my mind. :P**

 **Set Post-White Walker War (Basically my idea of how the show/books will end).**

 **This will most likely be a bit canon-divergent and slightly ooc since I have only finished the show, still in the third book while writing this first chapter, and don't have the best internet for researching so I apologize for any mishaps.**

 **Also, I can't assure you it's GoT/ASoIaF graphic-ness. Might be fluffier but we'll see…**

"Do you think he will like me, mother?"

The young lady of the Sapphire Isle glanced toward the reflection of her lady mother. You almost couldn't tell they were mother and daughter. Euphemia was pretty with her delicate feminine features- her nose, her lips, the soft facial shape framed by golden ringlets, as opposed to her mother, Brienne, who had a broken nose, crooked teeth and wide face matted with her straw hair that never reached her shoulders. Even their choice of wardrobe was different; Euphemia's blue gown complimented the figure that was beginning to form, while Brienne's simple tunic and breeches just made her already flat chest flatter.

"Why would he not? You are a very beautiful girl, Euphemia," her mother assured her.

"I mean," Euphemia was tightening the laces of her dress. The child was six-and-ten and was adamant on being independent and impressing others. And although Brienne was not the most helpful at putting on dresses, it took all of her willpower not to lift her finger. That waist looked slightly too small on her daughter. "What if there is something about me he doesn't like?" the young lady continued. "The way I act, the way I dance, the way I…. breathe?"

Her daughter was close to being hysterical. The mother almost laughed but held it in for the sake of her daughter. Instead, she allowed herself a twitch of a smile before looking sympathetic and moving closer to her daughter. She held her arms gently but firmly and rested her chin on her shoulder. It was up close you could see their similarities- their full lips, pale skin sprinkled with freckles that would darkened a blotchy red when they blush, and their big beautiful bright blue orbs.

"You are the most wonderful daughter I could ever hope for," Brienne assured.

"You're only saying that because you are my lady mother," Euphemia mumbled, a habit she picked up from her mother when she did not want to come out rude. But Brienne heard it nonetheless.

"You are an obedient and hardworking child," Brienne explained. "You always did your duty and picked up what the septa taught quite easily,"

But the girl was still pouting which reminded Brienne of the child's father.

"Your father chose me, didn't he?" her mother began even though it was quite embarrassing to talk of, but her child needed reassurance. "Even though I am not the best of matches, more man than woman, my House not the greatest, but he still chose to marry me," After all these years, it still sounded like a dream come true for the Lady of Tarth when her lord husband chose to marry her, Brienne Not-Really-A-Beauty, heir of the Sapphire Isle, because of love.

"But mother," her daughter waved her away. "Father saw your eyes," and her expression turned dreamy. "And it was enough beauty for him. It showed how truly beautiful you are, no matter what everyone whispers," Brienne began to turn scarlet but her daughter went on. "A pool of sapphires, he said, that felt like home, our home, and he is but the small, insignificant and tainted emerald that sit upon the endless sparkling blue,"

Her mother was bright red when her daughter was finished. "Gods, did your father really say that?" Brienne muttered.

Euphemia smiled smugly, as if it was a supposed to be a secret only she knew. "Yes, I was ten, and the others had said that you were not my mother, but he assured me you were. We have the same eyes,"

"Th-there you have it," Brienne stuttered, steadying her breathing to return her face to its normal color. "Look him in the eyes and he will see your inner beauty, too,"

Euphemia seemed satisfied with it and adjusted her dress. After she seemed to be finished, her mother opened the door and found her lord father leaning against the wall. His golden locks, now flecked with silver, hung over his face creased with age crinkles as he dozed off. Brienne smacked his arm. Jaime jumped in fright and widened his eyes.

"How long was I asleep?" Jaime Lannister huffed.

The women both rolled their eyes.

"Father, I was only inside for half an hour. We were just talking about you,"

"Oh," he raised his eyebrow at his wife whose color was returning. "What of?"

"Emeralds on the endless Sapphire blue," their daughter beamed brightly.

Jaime's cheeks seemed to color a little. "Effie," Jaime had come up with that ridiculous nickname. He found the name, Euphemia, too ridiculous for his taste, but his wife was adamant in the name. "That was supposed to be our little secret. Your mother will think I've gone soft,"

"Everyone in Westeros knows you're all female, Lannister," his wife deadpanned.

Jaime made a move to wrap his arm around his wife's waist and positioned them face to face. "Well, you are more man than I am, Tarth, but there are some… instincts where I am the male in this relationship,"

He slowly leaned his face forward when Brienne aggressively shoved him. "Not in front of the child, and we are late,"

Jaime laughed at this and gave her a quick peck on her lips.

"Effie," the Lord Lannister nodded to his daughter as he offered her arm to her daughter. She tapped thrice on her father's golden hand as she did when she needed some sort of comfort, before locking her arm around her father's.

Her spirits were high as they slowly journeyed to the dining hall, with both parents by her side. Watching her parents in light and easy banter was refreshing to watch. She wished she would marry for love, just like her parents, but Tarth needed to forge bonds with Houses, and after that whole mess in the Wall, all the highborn sought new and old allies alike. Tarth was no exception. Effie knew it was duty, and she was a dutiful child. She had no boy she really set her eyes on anyway. And she knew of lords and ladies who learned to love the person they were arranged to.

The family walked through the doors of the dining hall. Seated on the farthest table, Sansa Stark stood up and curtsied at the family. She had a small smile plastered on her lips until she caught Jaime's eyes. The family bowed to the Lady of Winterfell.

"Please sit down," Sansa motioned at the available seats. Brienne and Effie sat on both sides of Sansa while Jaime sat beside his wife. Jaime opened his mouth as if to say some snarky comment but Brienne silenced him with a glare.

"I regret to inform you that my lord husband and son have been delayed by the weather on their way back," Lady Sansa didn't look that apologetic. She looked more like she was relieved and irritated at the same time. "They might have about half a fortnight delay,"

The family nodded. Effie was a little ticked about the delay, being a stickler for punctuality, but it was an unforeseen circumstance. But it didn't stop her from shoveling her first bite in a way highborn ladies wouldn't normally do.

The sound of plates and forks and knives clashing filled the silence of the hall. Jaime normally would chatter away in their family meals but Sansa had no love for the Lannister. She had only respected him for his part in the war, but his deeds against the Starks were not fully forgiven. Only Brienne and her honorable words stood in the way of Arya's blade and his neck.

By the end of the meal, Sansa handed out a rolled parchment to Brienne. "I received a raven from Evenfall Hall, and forgive me," but Sansa's icy blue eyes were far from sorry. "But for safety purposes, I read through all the letters that arrive here in Winterfell,"

Brienne unrolled the parchment and Sansa narrated what the letters contained. "Your grandchild, Octavia. Her sickness has gotten worse. Cinna and Portia have both decided to split the load to find a cure. Flavius is seated at the throne but he is only six, too young to understand anything. Maester Aurelius is doing all he can to run the place but some tasks need a Lady and or Lord,"

"I'll go," Brienne stood up and brushed crumbs off her. "My Lady, I will start packing and leave first thing in the morning,"

Beside her, a chair creaked. "No, my lady wife," Jaime lifted his chin a little to meet his wife's eyes. "I should handle the situation back in the island. Your daughter needs a mother in times like this,"

His wife snorted. "I'm hardly the one to teach Euphemia about weddings and I'm definitely more familiar with the rule of Tarth,"

Jaime raised a brow. He had been living in Tarth for almost two decades. Surely he is familiar with its ways.

"You think I'm getting old, don't you?"

A light blush on his wife's cheeks answered his question.

"I'm a few years nearing my sixtieth name day but I can travel just fine, wife," he tried very hard not to sound insulted.

"I cannot do lady duties," was all Brienne could say.

"Neither can I," he mused.

"You are better at sitting pretty and being all highborn,"

Euphemia abruptly rose from her seat before they can argue further. "You can both go. I'll stay,"

The couple whipped their head to their daughter's direction.

"Mother, Father. I am sixteen now," the child explained. "I am perfectly capable of handling myself here. You can leave Aron here if it eases your worry, but I know Lady Sansa here will not allow any harm to come to me,"

The worried parents looked over to Sansa, who was badly suppressing her amusement. "Do not be so eager to send your parents away, child," Then, she looked melancholic, "You never know when they will be taken from you,"

She seemed to scowl at Jaime for a second but took a deep breath and smiled apologetically (it appeared that way at least) to Effie. "Forgive me. I do miss my parents terribly,"

Jaime looked afraid for his daughter. Grief does horrible things to a person's mind. He recalled Lady Stoneheart. He had little love for the boring Eddard Stark but at least he was not as cold as his wife. Sansa and Arya both took their mother's unforgiving nature.

Sensing his thoughts, Sansa gave what probably was the warmest smile she ever gave Jaime.

"I assure you, Ser Jaime," Sansa often calls him that out of habit. It was supposed to be a more polite version of Kingslayer, but he was past caring. "My little love for you will in no way make me let any harm come to your daughter. She is my guest and a good host always takes care of their guest,"

"Please Mother and Father. I will be good. I promise," Euphemia plead.

The two mumbled hesitant affirmations and their daughter smiled.

"So 'tis a yes?"

"Yes, sweetling," her father confirmed.

"But you have to write us as often as you could, won't you?" her mother added.

The girl sucked in her breath and went over to her parents and hugged them.

From her spot in the head of the table, Sansa observed the family with a pang of jealousy. She wondered why the gods would allow such an honorless man to feel such love and completeness. She married her husband because he was the only person she could trust, and while she loved her son very much, her whole family was not as warm as the one before her.

 **Author's Note: What did you think? Brienne and Jaime were giving me mega feels so I really wanted them as the Lannister parents. I know they have a short appearance (I'm sad, too, but my muse insists) but they'll be back for their baby XD I am scared that I didn't do the characters justice, this is my first GoT/ASoIaF fanfic (yes I have posted others but I wrote this first XD) and unlike THG, which doesn't have as much character establishment for everyone else due to the limited POV one can easily assume and take liberations with other characters more, GoT/ASoIaF is in multiple POVs and the world is built up specifically so I am very scared at the result of this. Also, their way of talking is not too modern so I tried my best to emulate how they speak. Aaaaand I am not sure if I got their customs, too accurately. GODS THIS IS TOUGH! I hope I did not do too badly XD. Constructive feedback is very much appreciated.**

 **I will probably be posting chapters 2 week to a month intervals, depending on my progress. I've actually written out several chapters before posting this first chapter so I'm sure to finish this multi-chapter fic and not just leave it to the dust like last time I tried. XD But I will still be reading and considering your feedback. I'll also be keeping this in 7-8 parts. I suck at multi-chapters and these are my baby steps 3**


	2. II

**Author's Note: I will just warn you ahead that since Effie and Haymitch are a different age, world and circumstance, they will be slightly ooc. But I did do my best still. I hope you still give me a chance. 3 :3 3 ~**

 **Also I did a bit of research and Sapphire and Steel is a title an old British cop show? XD Eh, I'm keeping the name anyway XD**

It had been five days since her parents left for the nearest port. She couldn't go with them for the port is too far, so she settled with waving at them from top of the wall of Winterfell. They had divided the men they brought from Tarth. To ease her parents' worries, she was left with the greater half, including Aron, Evenfall Hall's master-at-arms, with Euphemia.

Effie became restless. She tried to write a letter to her parents to send to Tarth even though they won't be arriving at about two moons, but not much happened. She was free to explore the castle but not many places were particularly interesting to her. She wanted to sketch the castle exterior- she had always loved seeing castles and towers- but eventually she lost the inspiration because Winterfell wasn't properly restored yet. She would talk to Aron sometimes, since he was the only one she knew the most from the men, but they couldn't have much topics to discuss about. The handmaidens were pleasant enough but they often laugh about things that Euphemia couldn't understand. She wished her septa was here, but she had been sick at the time, so no females but her and her lady mother went along their journey to Winterfell.

Most of the time, she just read. She read at different places in the castle, walking as much as possible, but it had been tiring, too.

Euphemia sighed. She didn't feel like reading anymore. So she just pulled out fresh paper and dipped her quill in ink, she heard a horn blow in the distance.

She wondered which noble arrived. Perhaps it was a Northerner. _A Manderly, perhaps._

Outside, footsteps clattered and scuttled about. Euphemia opened the door and saw a handmaiden posed to knock on the door.

"Lord Stark and his son has arrived, m'lady," the handmaiden said after bowing. "Does m'lady need me to help her dress and wash?"

"I have already taken a bath. But I do need to wear a new gown," she told the handmaiden allowing her to enter the room.

Usually, she would have wanted to do it by herself but she might be needed soon. She chose a velvet blue gown patterned with light silver swirls, trimmed with white on the edges, tied in the middle with a white satin belt. It was heavy and layered but she endured it.

When she was done with the dress, she heard a knock on the door. She gave permission to enter and a man with dirty blonde hair entered.

"M'lady, you are needed in the Great Hall," Aron said.

"Aron, give me five minutes to fix myself,"

"Alright, my lady, but five minutes only. They are expecting you." Aron said before he closed the door.

She thanked the seven she already bathed, so she wouldn't have to be presented looking like a servant. When Euphemia was satisfied she dismissed her handmaiden. With a few minutes to spare, she stood in a mirror for the last time before opening the door and giving Aron a small nod. They locked arms as they walked toward the Great Hall.

"Aron, do you think he'll like me?" she asked out of the blue.

"M'lady, I cannot say," the forty-year-old swordsman replied. "But everyone seems to have taken a liking to you. Even Lady Sansa," he whispered the next part. "Who is as cold as the north,"

Effie stared at the man in disbelief.

"See, m'lady," Aron chuckled. "You are very respectful to everyone. I have heard servants who had seen the Lady Sansa as a child say that you remind them of her before. Perhaps this is why she had taken quite a liking to you, despite the fact that you are Lannister,"

"I am Lannister AND Tarth, Aron. I have both the lion and the moon and stars in my blood,"

Aron simply sighed and graced an amused smile.

They arrived outside the Great Hall and the guards bowed as they saw her. She curtsied back. Then the guards opened the door.

"Lady Euphemia Lannister of Tarth," the guard announced.

The first thing she noticed was how much she felt like a princess, entering a Grand Ball in King's Landing. The next thing she noticed as she walked forward were three people seated at the end of the Hall. Lady Sansa looked as ravishing as she always does, but there was a glow to her that she hadn't seen before. Next to her was a handsome dark-haired man, his hair, beard and garments flecked with snow. His grey eyes looked kind but there was something sad about it, too. Nonetheless, the man gave her an inviting smile. Effie fought to keep a blush down.

Her heart skipped a beat when she turned to the third person in attendance.

The handmaidens' words were true. He had inherited the some Stark look. The dark hair, grey eyes, but he had also inherited his mother's high cheekbones and strong jaw the Starks didn't have. He didn't have his father's solemnity, however. He seemed fiercer.

"Lord…" she paused.

"Stark, child," Jon supplied.

"Lord Stark, Lady Stark," she curtsied to each in turn.

"We may be Targaryen in name but the North is stronger in our blood. And besides, her Grace has agreed that our son shall have the Stark sigil and name once he takes Winterfell. Same with you when you wed him, child,"

With that, she spun to the third Stark.

And his eyes bore into hers.

She sucked in her breath. The handmaidens talked about how his eyes sparked silver. They were wrong. The glint in his eyes was dark and dangerous, like steel. But for a moment, a softer emotion flashed across his face before he set his emotion to stone.

"L-Lord Haymitch," she stuttered.

He stretched his lips to what looked like a smile.

She didn't know what to say that would be memorable. "It's very nice to meet you, my lord,"

What happened next was something she hadn't expected. Her betrothed snorted.

"That's all you have to say, Lannister? If so, I shall head to my chambers,"

The lady of Tarth felt her heart drop.

"I-I'm sorry, my lord. I'm afraid that I'm unprepared for your coming. What topic interests you? Perhaps we shall talk about-"

He huffed. "Nothing. I just want to retire to my chambers. I'm tired from my journey from the Wall,"

Beside him, Sansa glared daggers at the boy.

"I will dismiss you if you apologize to Lady Euphemia," Sansa declared.

The young lord groaned.

"I apologize, my lady, for my behavior. I have been trudging in deep snow for leagues. I am exhausted and seek the comforts of my bed," the boy said stiffly.

Euphemia slowly released a breath she didn't know she was holding. She curtsied at him.

"I understand, my lord. It must have been quite a journey. Perhaps you should tell me about it next time,"

"Perhaps" was all he mumbled before leaving the Hall.

"Our son is rather… wild," Lord Jon spoke when the door closed. "It must be from all that time with Rickon and the wildlings. He is rather stubborn and speaks his mind. Whatever it is he has in his mind. He has quite a temper, too,"

"It's fine, my lord. It's still the first meeting after all. I have high hopes that we'll get along better next time," she beamed her brightest smile, yet all she felt was dread.

"I will talk to my son later," Sansa assured her. "He has been having issues, lately. You are quite a wonderful lady, Euphemia and I do not tolerate prejudices from my kin,"

Euphemia nodded, and Lord Jon dismissed her to her chambers, adding that they will call her again later for dinner. She had nothing else to do and the Lord of Winterfell also needed to rest.

The Lady Lannister and Lord Stark did not speak much for a few days. More like Lord Haymitch barely spoke to her, and if he did, it was some rude remark about whatever he fancied mocking at the day- her hair, her dress- every little blunder was scrutinized and magnified. Euphemia still met those remarks with poise and politeness. Lady Sansa always prompted his son to apologize but he never seemed sincere. Effie did not mind too much. She had heard worse from some people at Tarth and she had braved them all. _Sometimes, a man tried to veil love by acting the opposite_ , her septa had told her. And although she did not feel too at ease with Lord Haymitch's sneers, she hoped to get used to it sooner or later. After all, her parents did seem that way.

Sansa and Jon wanted to give them freedom to get to know each other but it had been more than a fortnight and they barely spoke to each other unless Haymitch was japing at her and she'll apologize for something she should not. This was not an official betrothal. Sansa and Brienne both shared their concerns about pressuring their children into marriage, but their children are past the right age. It was a new era, but bloodlines are still important to nobles, much to Queen Daenerys' dismay. They weren't sure anymore if they trusted their bannermen anymore. Many still held a grudge against Robb, and they needed some connection to the South. Tarth was well away from the mess of the mainland and it was located near the Free Cities, they were key to trade. Tarth also has newly discovered mines which makes the House much richer. Despite her mistrust in Jaime, he was never one to care for riches or power. And Lady Brienne was an honest woman, so she trusts this alliance enough. Without Brienne and Jaime though, this was harder than the Starks had thought. So they had finally decided to take matters in their own hands.

"Lord Haymitch, what were the stories you liked to hear as a child?"

Lady Sansa and Lord Jon had told their son that he will be showing their guest outside the castle properly. Sansa had said that Euphemia hadn't been shown outside the castle walls yet, but the young lord and lady knew better. It was a way to force them to spend time together alone.

And now they are seated in the carriage without a word from either, or mostly Haymitch.

"Do you never shut your mouth?" the dark-haired youth muttered.

"If we are going to be wed, my lord, we might as well learn about each other,"

He just continued to grumble in his seat. The lady tried her best to restrain a groan.

The carriage halted and Lord Haymitch leaped down. Euphemia waited at the door.

"Has your foot been cut off, my lady?" he gave a mocking bow.

"You are supposed to help me down," she huffed.

Lord Haymitch rolled his eyes. "You have hands and feet. The carriage has a handle near the door. You know what to do,"

Effie was steaming in the midst of all this snow, but she could do nothing but what he said. She slipped and nearly fell face first, but she gripped tighter on the handle to prevent her from toppling forward. Still, she ended up banging her leg on the carriage and bruised her leg. She had to limp the rest of the way.

"You're slow," he said when she was finally beside her.

"If only you helped me," she replied. "I bruised my leg. Not very lordly of you,"

"It's only a bruise, princess, no need to sob over it,"

His jibes were really beginning to irritate her. He has not said a genuine nice word to her since they met. She was done playing the sweet lady when he would not even at least be polite.

"I suppose your head is frozen from your time in the Wall that you forget I am a lady,"

He smiled. But it was not a warm one. It was taunting.

"I suppose you're not worthy of such a title anyway,"

"Please," she scoffed. "Even you are not worthy of lordship. You are arrogant and crass,"

"I thought the same of you, my lady," he said, not backing down-his grin wider than ever. "Except, unlike me, you have sword shoved up your-"

"Do not even finish that sentence,"

"Arse,"

The young lady groaned in defeat. Her companion merely laughed at her.

"I am going to enjoy this tour," he said after the laughter.

They went to several places. Lord Haymitch constantly telling her awkward stories about lovers he caught in the middle of their passionate acts. Effie was in a constant scarlet color since he spared no detail in his story telling.

"I have not caught anyone here actually," They stood at the base of the broken tower. There was a shift in the lord's mood. "But I was told that Uncle Bran-"

"I am aware of what happened to your Uncle Bran and the history of what my father had done," she interrupted bluntly. "He told me when he made a face at the tower,"

The lord opened his mouth, about to speak.

"And no, my lord," she added hastily before he could say something. "His face looked very uncomfortable and sad,"

Lord Stark seemed to be lost in his thoughts and his mood became sourer than before. The rest of the tour seemed more melancholic. Effie was not sure if she enjoyed this side of him. He was not making fun of her anymore. He just tells her the names of the places. Lord Haymitch was distant and cold, like the North.

By the end of the tour, Lord Haymitch ignored her entirely and went to his room.

"How did the tour go, children?"

The silence was too long during suppesr, and Jon thought it was nice to start the conversation.

In her seat, Effie blushed remembering the stories Haymitch told.

"I… learned many stories, my lord. I learned a lot about what goes on within the walls of Winterfell," Effie replied politely, pleased that it what she said wasn't really a lie.

"Did you two enjoy your walk around the kingdom?" Lady Sansa asked.

"Yes, my lady, although I did bruise my leg a little. Walking was quite a pain,"

"Did you let the maester see it?" Lord Jon asked a little worryingly.

"No, my lord," she shook her head. "But it's only a small bruise. I have had worse in my youth days in Tarth," Effie assured them.

"I am sure the Sapphire Isle has such a welcoming weather to explore to," Lady Sansa mused.

"Indeed it does, my lady," Euphemia smiled,her heart swelled with pride to talk about home.

"May I inquire how you bruised your leg?" Lord Jon inquired.

"The clumsy princess fell off the carriage," Lord Haymitch muttered-but not lowly enough.

"How-"

"My lord has a notion that ladies do not struggle with stepping off the carriage with our difficult dresses," Euphemia cut in sharply.

"I think you are being theatrical, my lady," Lord Haymitch had a smirk plastered on his face. "A well-trained lady such as yourself should learn to maneuver herself in that monstrous garb you call a dress,"

"A well-trained lord," she began nonchalantly. "Does not only know the way of sword but also the way of etiquette,"

"A well-trained lady does not speak back to their husbands-to-be,"

"A well-trained lord does not taunt her into doing so. I am only in defense of myself,"

"I thought ladies wait for their lords to rescue,"

"A noble that shows weakness cannot be respected,"

And on and on they went bantering, with Lord Haymitch's smirk and Lady Effie's stiff smile. It only stopped when Effie realized how rude she sounded, and how she barely touched her food. She apologized profusely to the lord and lady of Winterfell.

"I suppose our son needs someone who could match his wits, Lady Lannister," Lord Jon told the two when it became quiet again.

Lord Haymitch seemed to sober up and ate his food in a dazed expression.

Lady Sansa did not know what to make of their display of behavior, especially Euphemia's sharp tongue.

 **Author's Note: I don't know why I let the Starks keep apologizing. Nor do I know why I have ended both chapters with Sansa's thoughts XD Also, Haymitch isn't a drinker in this fic. I mean he will definitely have issues but I don't really think he'll be a drinker with Sansa and Jon as parents. If he were older probably he will be. Let me know what you think please :3**

 **Also, I've read farther into A Dance with Dragons and *inhales sharply* I'll still go with what I have despite what I read. I've come so far XD I'm almost finished actually XD I hope you still enjoy it nonetheless. 3**


	3. III

**Note: I finished the 4th book when I was writing the later bits of this chapter and realized maybe I've had characterization that might not be believable and perhaps some plot inconsistencies but do forgive me for this because Jon is now a sour guy by the end of the 3rd book and the little time he has in the 4th book. I wanna hide but I've written so far and my muse wants me to push through with Jon and Sansa XD But I hope you give it a chance and enjoy the Hayffie bits at least.**

 **This is where it gets kinda angsty. XD Oh well. I know you guys love your angst 3**

It was quite the irony when Lady Sansa and Lord Jon seemed to have a reversal of opinion. Lady Sansa had wanted to forgive. She had wanted to give a second chance and believe in change. Lord Jon had thought it was a terrible match. He had been very much against it.

But that night, they had discussed the matter. And Sansa still held the grudge in her heart, while Jon was reminded of a past love. While Sansa was never jealous of her husband's feelings for a girl in the past, she was jealous that she has never experienced love like Jon did, and their discussion turned to their own personal emotions.

In the end, they had concluded that they will merely wait and see until Lady Brienne and Lord Jaime will return to Winterfell after things go well in Tarth.

The following days, Sansa and Jon left their children to their own devices once more. The two were either avoiding each other or at each other's throats. It almost drove Jon to madness. Sansa wanted to watch over them do something for a whole day but Jon told her that it could be better to leave them alone again. Sansa would have argued if not for the fact that she remembered how she was back then. She remembered the mistrust and resentment of King's Landing towards her.

Nearly three weeks later, a raven had arrived. It bore the seal of Tarth. Sansa thought it was great timing, hoping she would catch a break from the children for a little while.

"Thank you, my lady," Euphemia beamed at the sight of the letter. The seal had been broken but she knew it was only Lady Sansa.

The young lady ran to her room and saw the letter. Since it was carried by a raven, it was not as long as she'd hope. Still, it was wonderful to receive it.

 _A moon away from home. Hope you are doing well. Met some pirates along the way. All you need to know is your father got poked with a pirate sword near his bottom._ (In this part of the letter, the ink seemed a bit blotched) _More on the story when we get back there in Winterfell. Is Lady Sansa's son wonderful? Give my regards to her and her family. We love you._

 _-Mother_

Euphemia smiled at the letter. Glad that Lady Sansa had no plans for her and Haymitch today (it wasn't like they had planned anything for more than a fortnight, but one can never know), she began to write a reply letter.

 _That must be quite a fight you and father had to go through. I cannot wait to hear the full tale of this. Lord Jon is very wonderful. Lord Haymitch is_

She paused, unsure of what to write about the heir of Winterfell. He had been rude to her since they met, and he only seemed to be in high spirits round her when they are bantering. When they were almost coming to breakthrough, he would suddenly stop as if he remembered that she had some plague and turn away in disgust.

 _a true northerner. You will see._

But she didn't want to them to see. Especially her father who she knows is impulsive.

 _I hope to see you soon. I hope little Octavia is well. Give Cinna, Portia, and the little ones all my love. Tell father I give all my love to his rump._

She smiled at the last bit and signed the letter. She headed to Lady Sansa's chambers to have her letter evaluated as Lady Sansa instructed. After dutifully giving the letter, she made her way towards her chambers. However, she suddenly decided that she wanted to visit the library. She had been eyeing on a collection of Northern tales that she recently discovered. When she arrived at the library however, she found herself scowling at the other inhabitant.

"Princess,"

Lord Haymitch shot up from his seat and did his signature mocking bow.

"My lord," she said icily. "I do not wish to spar words with you, today,"

"The princess reads then?"

Euphemia rolled her eyes but did not take the bait. "I'm going to pick up a book and leave you in peace, Lord Haymitch,"

Before he could jape at her, she headed straight for the farthest shelf. She was expecting Haymitch to have some sarcastic remark but he remained quiet. She almost sighed in relief but decided to just get back to her search.

When she looked in the area where she found the book, it wasn't there. She browsed the whole shelf twice and checked the other shelves. She found no sign of it anywhere. Unless…

She peered from the shelf to look at the book the Winterfell lord was reading.

It had the same shade of gray.

"My lord, is that-"

"The Tales of the North? Were you looking for this?" There was no trace of mockery in his tone only curiosity, but Effie was still cautious.

"Yes, I found it the other day and I really want to read the stories and legends of the North," she stiffly said.

"I should have expected that. Your head is wrapped in fantasies and follies," he snorted. There was the young lord she knew.

"I do not wish to ruin any of our days. If you are still reading the book, I will just leave,"

She turned toward the door when she felt a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Here," Lord Haymitch handed out the book. "I read this countless of times already,"

The young Lannister was taken aback. This was probably the kindest gesture he had ever done.

"Th-thank you, Lord Haymitch,"

Effie would have told him how kind it was of him but he might ruin it by saying some remark about it. So instead, she gave a curtsy and left. She went to her chambers and began devouring herself with legends of Winterfell and its domain. She lost herself in the stories. She read about seven stories by the time luncheon came around. With about ten minutes to spare, she readied herself for the meal. After that, she finished on time and headed to the Great Hall.

Once she reached the hall, she was surprised to see Lord Haymitch about to head inside.

"Someone has finally learned punctuality," Effie couldn't help say.

"Oh I-" he seemed look away for an instant before staring directly at her with a dead panned expression. "I'm famished," To her surprise, he held out his arm.

"Shall we, my lady," he simply said.

"My, my, are we being gallant today?" Effie japed.

"I assure you my hunger is what caused this fit of gallantry," Lord Haymitch retorted.

"Then, they should starve you more often, my lord," Effie chuckled.

"Never. Now take my arm before I come to my senses,"

Effie took it gladly and they entered the Great Hall together in high spirits. The Lady and Lord of Winterfell were already seated. They turned to see who had arrived but then they widened their eyes at the sight behold them. They looked like they were about to say something then decided in the last minute not to. However, as they neared the table, Euphemia felt the arm around hers uncurl. She was not even astonished that Lord Haymitch had not pulled out her seat. It would be too much to ask from such a barbarian like him.

They began their meal and Lady Sansa asked her servants to serve the drink. For some time, only the clanging of silverware made noise in the hall. When desserts were served, Lord Jon spoke.

"So, why are you both in such good spirits today?"

Haymitch shrugged. "I wosh hongwy,"

"Be a dear son and do swallow your food," his mother chided and that got a small giggle from Effie. Lady Sansa and Lord Haymitch glared at the girl and she quickly tried to return to a blank expression, but her smile said otherwise.

"I said I was hungry," the boy grunted after a large swallow.

"Well, boy, we should starve you more if you are going to act this civilized," Jon mused.

"That was what I have told him, my lord," Euphemia put on her most innocent look as if she had said none.

Lord Jon laughed at that. "Clever girl,"

"No she is not. Her head is full of stories," Haymitch retorted.

"And you are not," Jon replied.

"Father, whose side are you on?" the young lord seemed to whine.

"He likes fairytales," Jon whispers to Euphemia-a little too loudly. "Especially tales and stories of Winterfell, he tells it to everyone he meets. His favorite book is Tales of the North,"

Euphemia looked at her betrothed. "Oh, I was looking for it in the library and when I saw him reading it, he lent it to me willingly,"

"Perhaps that could explain his good mood," the Winterfell lord said.

Effie couldn't believe it. They finally had common ground. Both had a love for stories. _Who knew the cold, rough Northern heir had a soft spot for tales._

"I could tell you stories from Tarth," Euphemia suddenly gushed out. "You could tell me other stories you know. Maybe from your travels and such,"

"You mistake me, my lady, it is true that Tales of the North is my favorite story book but it's not in any way my favorite book," the boy told Effie.

"Oh," she squeaked. She maintained her smile but she felt her stomach plummet. "I suppose we still have to find other similar interests, my lord,"

He grunted and the whole meal continued in silence. The older nobles contained their sighs.

After the meal, they all left and said their courtesies. Effie went back to their room to read the book. Lord Haymitch may have been closed off again but she didn't want his unpleasant mood affect her. She went to her room and decided she did not feel like reading it in her room. They had a large window in one of the hallways that had a brilliant view of the Winterfell grounds. Sitting on windows was not something a proper lady would do but it was a seldom used hall.

However, when she arrived, someone had already taken her spot.

"Lord Haymitch," she curtsied.

"My lady,"

He simply turned his head and gazed intently at her. It had been a while since she had noticed those steel eyes again. They never really saw eye to eye. She thought that if she did, her resolve will crumble. She is Euphemia Lannister. She is a lion and a star and she would not let anyone, even her betrothed, devalue her. But somehow in this lighting, the young lord paled a bit while his steel eyes shone. Still, she kept her composure and returned his gaze with equal intensity.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"I was merely finding a spot to read," she replied, not blinking at him.

 _The lion and the wolf,_ she mused. All they needed was the stag, the kraken and the fiery heart and they could have the War of Five Kings in intense staring. None of them would win though because the dragon will come and startle them into blinking.

"Go find another spot," he growled.

"I will not," Euphemia insisted.

"This is my castle and my rules, princess. I suggest you take your reading elsewhere," he barked.

She was getting frustrated. All she wanted was to try to get to know him. She wanted to please her betrothed. If she were going to change her cloak for his, she wanted that they were very well acquainted with each other. She did not understand why her husband-to-be didn't even try.

"Why are you so cold to me? We could blame the North but you and I know very well it is not,"

"You are such bloody brat are you not, Lannister?"

Euphemia straightened herself. When he calls her Lannister, he was going to say something nasty.

"YOU are being a bloody brat, Stark," she retorted. "I tried to be nice to you and open up,"

Effie was beginning to puff up and her face is heating in fury.

"How many people have had the chance to get to know their betrothed beforehand? You are not even trying. It has been two moons at least and we have done naught but fight. What will you say to our children?"

"Who says I will have your child?" he said blankly.

"But we're-"

"Betrothed, I know," the young Stark was sneering at her, like a wolf baring his teeth before he attacks. "But our parents had said that they will cut it off if it doesn't work,"

"But you're not even trying," Effie said.

"Why would I? You are a Lannister. You Lannisters are all the same,"

Effie could feel her anger boil.

"What about the Lannisters?" she hissed.

"You are all bloody liars and murderers. Your cousin… brother? He beheaded my grandfather. Your grandfather? He killed my grandmother and uncle. Then your uncle? He killed both of them off,"

It was as if she was punched one by one. He hadn't met the first two but they were still family. But her Uncle Tyrion she was especially fond of. He and her father may still have this rocky relationship but her uncle adored her.

"And your father the Kingslayer. He killed my great grandfather, crippled my uncle and caused this whole commotion by fucking his sister, your magnificent aunt,"

And she slapped him.

It took them both aback. Neither said anything- only stared at each other in disbelief.

Then, the young Lannister recovered first. She did a quick bow and ran off before he could see her tears spill. Lions don't cry, and especially not the moon and stars.

Effie could live with insulting her, her hair, dress and everything. But she couldn't bear him insulting her family. When she was thirteen, her father had told her about all the terrible things he did. He didn't even try and defend himself and explain his actions to her, but she knew in her heart that her father was no longer that man, no longer 'Ser Jaime Lannister, Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, Sisterfucker'. Haymitch had no right to judge him. He simply had no right.

The lady rushed to the courtyard. She passed several people on the way but her tears made it blurry to tell who it was. One of them seemed to be Lady Sansa but she could not care about propriety at the moment. She found Aron in the middle of the courtyard with a sword held in his hand.

"My lady," his brows creased in worry.

"Aron," she sniffed. Her eyes were wet and warm and her nose was runny yet she somehow, managed to sound dignified. "I would like to have a training session." Ladies do not usually learn the way of the sword, but her parents are unconventional people. They insisted that she be taught just in case any trouble arises. She had never seen fit to use it. Tarth's locals were harmless and Evenfall Hall was well protected. It wasn't until a rough day with a local girl who insulted her and got mud on her dress when she was younger did she see sword fighting as an outlet for her anger.

Aron opened his mouth, probably to warn her that she was not dressed for training but Effie already picked up a sword from the pile and posed herself for swordplay. _It could be a_ challenge, she mused bitterly. The swordsman sighed and positioned himself.

They have been at it for a while-parrying, thrusting, swinging and clashing. Aron made comments on her move but she didn't seem to hear him. Every slash, that got aggressive by the minute, came a word being angrily mumbled under her breath.

After a long, tiring time, Effie wanted solitude, so she dismissed Aron. At first, he didn't want to leave her but she had insisted. The swordsman hesitatingly left.

Once he was out of sight, she sat on the snowy ground and buried her head on her knees. She willed tears to flow but her eyes were dry. So she just sat there and tried to empty her mind off anything.

Not long after, it got too cold.

"You ain't half bad with the sword, Lannister,"

Her head shot up at the familiar gruff voice. Unfortunately for her, her ears were right.

"Want to spar?"

He stood in front of her with two wooden swords, and an unreadable appearance. She tried to become angry again but she was too exhausted. Instead, she got up, curtsied and excused herself stiffly. Then, she felt a warm hand close around her wrist.

"I will not dismiss you until you spar with me," Lord Haymitch insisted.

"It is hardly right for a lady to be fighting her betrothed with swords," Euphemia croaked.

He chuckled softly. "I do not think you are a typical lady, my lady, and I am unsure if you would still want to be my betrothed after my behavior,"

The tone was casual enough but the snow felt colder. Euphemia didn't say anything but grabbed one of his swords and almost struck his left leg if it weren't for his quick reflexes.

"Ah, too slow, my lady," the Lord Stark taunted. This only seemed to infuriate her and she swung at him again. He caught the wooden blade again. She swung at him faster and faster but he still seemed to catch it. Then, somehow Haymitch got his guard down and Effie hit him with a moved that might have grazed him if it were a real sword.

"Not bad, princess. Now, my turn,"

He swung at her with more complicated moves and Effie almost couldn't keep up. She was able to hold herself for a surprisingly long time until Haymitch poked her in her heart. They were both panting.

"I win," he smiled smugly at her, but she did not look amused.

"Well, I hope you are satisfied with your victory, Lord Stark," she huffed before walking swiftly to the direction of the door. She could hear snow shuffling behind her.

"I-"

Euphemia raised her hand to silence him.

"I have heard enough apologies, Lord Stark. It is a very nice gesture for Lady Sansa to let you own up to your actions every time you say something spiteful but I am in no mood to forgive you right now,"

"My mother did not send me. I know I have stepped out of line talking about your family, especially your father like that. I-I truly am sorry, my lady,"

"Spare me the courtesies, Lord Stark," she snapped. "It is plain that your family had doubts about our match. Lannister and Stark have a long history of bad blood, my parents already told me. And I see that there will never be peace between Lannisters and Starks, despite this being a new day and age. I will write to Tarth immediately and tell my lord father and lady mother that I shall return home,"

The young Stark fell silent beside her. He let her leave.

 **Note: Sorry for a long update. I've been busy with finals and haven't had the time for proofreading especially since my family shares the laptop. Thank you for reading (and for your patience). Please do read and review. I would really appreciate it. Even constructive criticism would help 3 I hope you stick with this story even if Sansa and Jon are a ship (not a ship) and may be OOC T-T**


	4. IV

**Author's Note: Yay! I can update in a more proper schedule because it's summer for me so more writing time 3 3 Probably every 14** **th** **of the month, but I'm not too sure because in 2 months, it's back to classes but at least I'll have something written out by then. *thumbs up* I hope this chapter doesn't seem filler-y but I'm trying to get their relationship to develop. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Days passed and Euphemia had not written to her parents about her outburst. She did not want to worry her parents. It also seemed that Haymitch had not told Lord Jon and Lady Sansa either, but she could feel the tension from them when they looked at the two young ones. Perhaps she and Haymitch had become too quiet during meal times. Perhaps someone else who had known something had let out some whispers. But whether they have knowledge of what happened or not, they did not mention it. They only had worry etched on their faces.

She had tried many times to tell her gracious hosts of it. It was rude not to tell them, she had kept telling herself. But her words caught her throat doing so. Euphemia realized that although she was still their guest, she was still alone in this winter castle. It did not take long for her to realize how scared she was.

"Dueling the lord? What was I thinking?" Euphemia finally cracked after a few days more. She had summoned Aron to her chambers. The swordsman scrunched his brows.

"M'lady, Lady Sansa will not have you harmed. The young lord barely had any scratches on him," he heard Euphemia groan. "Besides, the contract between host and guest protects you,"

"But Aron," she began. "Lady Sansa's mother was killed under that contract,"

"Another reason why she would not harm you," Aron assured her. But Euphemia was still flailing her arms and trying to get words out. The swordsman watched her with half amusement and half worry. Suddenly, her figure slacked. Not quite relaxed, but defeated.

"I'm scared, Aron," she finally whispered. "And alone. I miss mother and father,"

"I'm here, m'lady, and I'll protect you,"

She looked at her master-at-arms. He smiled at her. He was over forty years and had smile crinkles around his eyes. Whenever his parents were away, Aron had been the next parent she had. Her lady mother had learned the sword together with him and grew to be good friends with him. She had thought he and her mother might have ended up if he weren't lowborn and traveled at ten-and-three to the other islands to learn more ways of the sword. But it was clear that they were just friends who cared about each other. Her father was not convinced however and always held on to her mother's hand whenever her mother and the swordsman spoke in his presence.

"M'lady?"

He shot a worried look at her. Then she realized she must have giggled.

"It's nothing, Aron. Father might accuse you of trying to steal his daughter, too," she chuckled.

"Oh m'lady. I am perfectly content with my place. And I love your lady mother like a sister,"

"Don't tell father that," she whispered in mock horror.

"Oh dear, you're right,"

And Euphemia burst into a big smile and wrapped her arms around the man.

"Thank you,"

"Your smile always warms my heart, m'lady,"

When she let go, the man looked serious again.

"Do you want to send a raven to your parents?"

"I do not want to burden them. Mayhaps when their letter arrives will I tell them… and Lady Sansa and Lord Jon, too,"

"You have officially broken off your marriage then, m'lady?"

Euphemia paused at that. Neither she nor Haymitch had spoken a word to each other since. She didn't know what to say. It seemed rather unspoken but still. They hadn't officially settled on anything. She just gave the master-at-arms a small smile. Then, she decided she would pay a visit to the heir of Winterfell.

It took her two days to gather up her courage to confront the young lord. She found him in the castle courtyard, trying hit straw dummies with a bow and arrow. She silently cursed the gods that of all places she'd find him was where they had nearly skewered each other.

The boy had noticed her after his third failed shot and he seemed to tense at her presence.

"My lady," Lord Haymitch greeted stiffly upon seeing her and Euphemia returned his greeting just as stiffly.

"I..." she took in a deep breath before continuing. "…came here to discuss of our marriage, my lord. Last we spoke to each other was quite a disaster but now that tempers are settled, I think it best we talk like civilized people,"

"Ah, finally some sense. That we can agree on," the young lord scoffed.

"Seeing as how we cannot get along, it is best we call off our marriage," Euphemia set her face to stone.

"Alright," the Northern lord put down his bow and approached her. "So we send a raven to your parents and tell my parents?"

Euphemia lowered her head, almost shy. She didn't want to seem like she's pleading. "Best we do not. I would not want my parents to sail back here. Tarth needs them,"

Haymitch didn't seem to mind and shrugged nonchalantly. "So we tell my parents instead,"

Euphemia shook her head. "It would only be fair if we tell them together,"

"What do you suggest we do then, my lady?" the young lord inquired.

Effie was well aware at how those steel eyes were calculating her. She tried to calm her heart at what his gaze was doing to her. They were breaking off their marriage because they were opposite sides of the wall of society.

The Northern lord coughed.

Her attention was back at the present. She tried to ignore the slight flush that colored Lord Haymitch's cheeks and the way he averted her gaze.

"We don't have to keep a pretense on even trying to get along but we don't have to worry your parents,"

"Easy enough," the lord grinned manically. Euphemia frowned at that. He only ever came alive when they are bickering. Nonetheless she gave him a wry smile.

"Now that that's settled, I will see you in supper,"

"Dragon," she heard him mutter.

"It's lion, my lord, but thank you for the comparing me to the queen, nonetheless," Euphemia replied, knowing full well that it was meant to be an insult. She had seen Daenerys Targaryen once and it was frightening.

When she heard no other quip from him, she held her head high and smiled smugly. However, as soon as she returned to her chambers, she was unsure if it was the right decision and she felt a sense of dread. Even when supper came around, she could still feel it at the pit of her stomach.

"You two have been awfully quiet the past week," Lord Jon finally remarked. "I would say it was a relief but it worries my lady wife and I,"

Euphemia and Haymitch looked at each other.

"We had a misunderstanding, Lord Jon, but we've settled it,"

It wasn't quite a lie but telling half-truths gave ease to her conscience.

"She was being bloody difficult but yes, father, we have settled things," Haymitch murmured.

"Wonderful, you are finally getting along," Lord Jon remarked.

"We most certainly have not, father. Right, princess,"

"You will address me by my proper title," Euphemia only spoke.

"Dragon,"

And with that they began to bicker all over again much to the older Starks' dismay. At the same time, they seemed relief that they are back to actually talking to each other.

When supper ended, the young ones seemed in better spirits, Sansa noted but kept quiet about it.

The following days, the two seem to run into each other often. When Haymitch wasn't sword training or Euphemia having lesson with the septa in Winterfell, they both spent quite a lot of time in the library. Euphemia was still gripped with the Tales of the North while Haymitch seemed to be studying some sort of history book. Usually, one would be there already when the other entered. Oddly enough, the library is the only place they could be in the same room and not attempt to yell at each other. Perhaps this was due to the fact that they didn't have to talk or look at each other while reading. Though occasionally, they would steal glances at each other only to find the other staring back. Neither was sure who started it first but they would often have color in their faces by the time one of them left the library.

One day, they happened to enter library together. By the gods' will, they decided to sit near each other.

"So," the lord drawled-almost detachedly. "What is your favorite story so far, my lady?"

"Wolf Children," she said in a heartbeat.

Wolf Children was a tale of love between a Northern Prince and a Wildling girl who was daughter of a chieftain of her own tribe. The Wildling and some of her fellow tribesmen sneaked into Winterfell where she met the Northern Prince. She and the Prince had fallen in love. Moons later, the Wildling discovered her pregnancy. One of her companions, who wanted her to himself, was filled with jealousy and sought out dark magic and cursed the child. When it was her due date, the baby- babies- had clawed out of her stomach. Out came seven pups, bigger than any dog or wolf infant they have seen. They were direwolves. Everyone saw the children as some monster the gods had cursed for bedding a wildling. But the Prince saw the children as a gift. He kept the direwolves with him until they grew. Even as he wed, he treated the direwolves like his own children and even kept them with his own human children who gloriously got along well. Often the Prince would pet his direwolf children and remember their mother. Those nights, they would howl for their mother. Once he died though, the Wolves had left for the forest. According to legend, if one heard eerie howls that sounded vaguely human, it was said to be the family of the Northern Prince and the Wildling Princess with their wolf children.

The Stark made a face.

"Oh you're going to make a cruel jape at me for being romantic," Euphemia frowned. "No need to bother, my lord,"

Her companion merely shrugged though.

"I loved it as a child. It was my favorite,"

Euphemia pursed her lips and Haymitch glared at her.

"You mock me, my lady," he pointed out with iciness in his tone.

"Merely amused," she tried to fight off a smile but it won. "Who knew the cold heir of the North is quite a romantic?" She raised an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes.

"It's not like that,"

Her grin only widened.

"By the gods," he muttered. "I wanted to be a direwolf as a child. I asked my lady mother how I'd be a wolf, but she merely laughed at me and told me I was already one,"

"You are," Effie mumbled.

He ignored her and went on. "After I read the story, I was convinced for a while that I was. That is until I tried to eat meat raw,"

For the first time, Euphemia genuinely laughed at something the lord had said.

"You really are a ruffian,"

"Now you owe me a story of yourself, sweetling," he told her.

 _That's new_ , she mused. It was a nickname he hadn't used on her before.

"But I told you countless of stories but you never bothered listen, my lord,"

"That's because a story of mine is equal to a thousand of yours,"

Euphemia huffed. "How does a greedy wolf such as you even like politics and history?"

"Ah, but that's two stories from me, my lady," he merely replied.

"Fine,"

And somehow they had filled the room with their endless chatter, more often banter and occasional yelling at each other, yet they finally found footing. When they left the library had the two only realized what they had done.

 _We are enemies_ , Euphemia thought as she turned the corner. _The lions and the wolves are forever locked in a dance of battle. Neither animal will yield to the other._

Yet for several moons after, they both found themselves running into each other more often-sometimes in the halls, where once Euphemia had just come from her lessons and they both had a contest on who would name the most houses, sigils and words, which to her dismay Haymitch won; sometimes outside the Sept where they had argued about which gods where truer in aiding the soldiers during the war. Once outside the bath, Euphemia was surrounded by her handmaidens but she frowned seeing the smirk from the lord's face, her companions' giggling and the heat of her own face. Sometimes, when they'd randomly meet they'd do some contests-sometimes rivals, sometimes teammates.

Mealtimes were just as much of an interesting occasion as they usually would never finish their argument in their previous meetings. Jon would bark laughter. Even Lady Sansa managed a small amused smile watching them.

On her way out of the kitchens, the young lady ran into Haymitch.

"My lord, I didn't expect you to be here,"

Her eyes were wide and hid the basket she was holding behind her.

"This is my castle and I may eat food whenever I desire," the lord stated, but his brow lifted questioningly at her.

"I was simply famished, too. Aron gave me quite a harsh lesson today,"

Euphemia could see he was studying her.

"You…" he said after a while. "…have a little something on your cheek,"

She rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand and she felt fine powder. She sighed in defeat.

"I was trying to make lemon cakes," she confessed showing him her basket. "I wanted to surprise the men who remained here. They must be terribly bored,"

Without even bothering to ask, Haymitch took a piece and bit from it. His face twisted.

"That's terrible,"

Euphemia groaned. "I know. I was never a good cook,"

"Why bother cooking it for yourself when other people will do it for you," he inquired.

"My parents taught me that I should have skill in all aspects. One cannot predict what will happen so I better prepare," she simply replied.

"And why lemon cakes?"

"Ah, that's two personal questions, my lord,"

The questions had begun to be a game between them. One will share in exchange for another. Often, Lord Stark would attempt to cheat and tell her that her story was worth less than his and would demand another one yet Effie was adamant on sticking with the rules.

"The reason would probably be boring anyway," he snorted.

"Hm," she hummed. "I suppose it is. I just happen to like them a lot,"

Haymitch raised his brow. "So does my lady mother. It's her favorite."

Euphemia felt excited at that similarity with Lady Sansa. "We have that in common,"

After a while, they had grown silent, unsure whether or not to go or say something.

"Have you ever been in love, my lord?" she out of the blue.

The boy averted her gaze and then looked at her. "Never," he told her with a straight face.

"You're lying," she pointed out.

"No, I'm not," he pouted.

"I can tell you are lying or trying to avoid a topic because you dart your eyes to the left before looking at me with a straight face,"

He does the same gesture whilst denying it.

"See, you did it again," she just said.

"Perceptive," he chuckled. "But unfortunately for you, I also happen to know that you lie because you blush madly and stutter doing so,"

Like he, she also does her gesture while denying.

"You did exactly the same thing when I told you how much you'd want to take a peek at me in the bath,"

She could feel her cheeks heating up.

"You know, you could join me," he wiggled his eyebrows and her face felt like fire.

"You were avoiding my question," she said, steering the topic away from embarrassment.

Then, he was closed up again.

"Whether or not I have ever had such feelings for anyone is none of your concern, my lady,"

Just when they were starting to warm up, too. Euphemia merely nodded and with that, he turned away from her.

"I- I apologize, my lord," she spluttered when she was a few feet away. "I did not know I was stepping over the line,"

He merely heard him breathe deeply and spun back toward her. He plucked another lemon cake and bit it. His face still twisted in disgust.

"I suppose this thing you call food is another proof that you aren't the perfect lady you claim yourself to be," he snorted.

"What do you mean another? You only won the houses contest because you gave me northern ones," she huffed. "Though I suppose sword fighting already qualifies as not a perfect lady, but nevertheless," she glared at him. "Do not expect me to be cooking for you anytime soon when we are wed,"

"Your cooking will most definitely be not on my thoughts during our wedding night,"

Euphemia blushed and glared at him while he laughed. It seemed like such a perfectly normal conversation until she realized something.

"That is if we were going to get married," she whispered, almost mouthing the words, but Haymitch must have heard it because he had stopped laughing.

"It is an interesting thought though," he coughed.

"My apologies. I started it, Lord Stark,"

"Haymitch,"

"What?"

"Just Haymitch. None of that, lord or my lord when it is just us,"

Effie bit her lip and gave a confused smile.

"The world is indeed changing, when your usage of titles is so improper,"

"A new era of White Walkers would come and all you would do is lecture them about how rude it is to invade a civilization,"

"It could work,"

"I would believe it,"

Everything seemed familiar and right at the moment. It seemed like love. Not like the stories she had read. But it seemed more concrete and real.

Yet this could not happen. Starks and Lannisters have too much strife and it is hard to join these houses. So she gave the lord an apologetic smile and headed off to her room.

After that awkward meeting, both pretended none of that had happened and continued their usual dance. But something in his steel stare is becoming different. There was less contempt in his eyes. Try as she might, the feeling at the pit of the stomach wouldn't go away.

One day, Lady Sansa had delivered a letter to her. Seeing the seal of Tarth, Euphemia giddily opened it.

 _How are you faring, sweetling? Your brother arrived to Tarth with a healer from Braavos. She worked wonders on little Octavia. Portia arrived days later. The little ones miss you a lot. So do your father and I. His backside is all better now. We will finally return on the morrow since I sent this letter. I hope the Lord Stark is wonderful._

 _-Mother_

Euphemia sucked in her breath.

Although she missed her parents terribly, all she felt was dread.

 **Author's Note: DUN DUN DUN DUN XD Thought I'd actually put a cliffhanger-ish end to a chapter. I'm actually really excited for the next chapter, where it gets good. Well, I hope it does to you. Hahahahhahaha! Please leave a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts/constructive criticism.~**

 **PS. Can anyone link me to weapon fighting for dummies links because I'm really not confident in weapon fighting… or politics… or battle strategies…. Or self defense…. Ples XD I want to be accurate af.**


	5. V

**Author's Note: This chapter is gonna be interesting. ;P**

After Euphemia had received the raven, she had tried to avoid Haymitch as much as possible. She even kept her handmaidens with her even though she did not like their presence that much. Every time Lord Haymitch tried to talk to her, she would greet him and reply as little as possible. He often would try to banter but she merely smiled. She could tell his frustration but he didn't decide to push it.

Mealtimes were even worse. Lord Jon and Lady Sansa inquired them of their misunderstanding and Effie would only smile and tell them they had both a tiring day.

Of course one couldn't use this excuse for more than a fortnight.

One day, Lady Sansa had entered her chambers.

"Lady Euphemia, is something amiss? You can tell me."

The lady seemed genuine and Effie couldn't help but be honest. So she explained the whole story to Lady Sansa. The lady flinched at the part when Effie had dueled Haymitch, but her expression remained neutral for the rest of the story.

"You should have told us, child," Lady Sansa whispered.

"I-I was scared, my lady. You might think ill of me," came Effie's reply.

"By the old gods and new, I swore to not harm you. You are still young, Lady Euphemia, and my son," she trailed off. "Something had happened to him when he was still a child, a green boy. He wouldn't tell us but he's grown distant since then. Though a lesser Lannister was found murdered in the vicinity where he had been, no doubt that explains his hostility."

"Oh," Effie managed to squeak. "I'm sorry if my kin had done Lord Haymitch wrong," She bit her lip, hesitant at the next part. "I'm sorry if the Lannisters had done the Starks wrong."

Sansa sighed. "It's not your fault, child. I would never fault you for what your kin had done. I was accused with traitor blood when I was younger than you."

Euphemia nodded.

"Though, you and he seemed to get along after some time."

Something about Lady Sansa's expression darkened. Effie's heart leapt in fright.

"I-I don't know, my lady," she stuttered. "We just always met in the library, then, we became friends and then, I said something about us getting married and then, I remembered that Lannisters and Starks will never get along, and when my parents said that they would return, I didn't want to get myself attached to him, so I-" Effie paused for breath. "I didn't talk to him again."

Lady Sansa seemed calmer now. She nodded and stood.

"Are you sure you're calling off the wedding?" the lady Stark asked.

"Yes, my lady," she affirmed.

"Must I send a raven to your parents to inform them?"

"No need, Lady Sansa, my parents will know soon enough."

"Alright," she merely said. "I will talk to my son,"

And Effie was left alone in her chambers. Her worries were eased but only a little. Oddly, it was her parents' arrival she dreaded.

The next day, Euphemia had sword practice with Aron. She had been getting better the past few days. She was better at learning to take advantage of her smaller frame and she had quicker feet. She had been gaining more muscle, too. After managing to prod her master at the throat, Aron looked pleased with her and awarded her with a short rest. Euphemia sat on the bench near the door. She wiped her sweat and gulped down mouthfuls of water. Next thing she knew, she found her water spilling on her training garb and her hand was being dragged inside. She took a good look at her captor and shrieked.

"Let go of me, Haymitch," she demanded.

"Now you actually call me that," he replied bluntly and Effie blushed at that.

"Where are you taking me?" was all she managed to say but he didn't reply. Then, he found a closet and he gently pushed her in it. Effie was surprised at his gentleness but she still refused to look weak in front of him. After he closed the door, she stared daggers directly at him, not caring about what his steel eyes were doing to her.

Minutes passed and there was only uncomfortable silence. She had tried to leave but the young Stark only blocked her.

"You drag me in practically a cupboard and you won't even talk to me?"

"I was waiting for you to talk to me."

"That is good logic, my lord," she scoffed. "I thought you were the smart one."

Haymitch groaned. "No," he ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture he seemed to do when he's frustrated, not that she noted, but somehow she did. "You weren't talking to me. Why?"

Effie relaxed her shoulders. "You know very well why," she muttered.

"Mother," he began. "She was right. Not all of the people in their kin are the same."

"Your mother told me a bit about what happened." Effie's gaze flickered away before gazing intently back. "Sort of. You were in the same area where a Lannister was murdered."

"I- perhaps she was right."

Euphemia shook her head.

"No, my lord. I can still see how much the event had affected you. You're closed off now, she said, and I'm certain it had something to do with your once lover, too."

Effie tried to shake off her jealousy and continued on. "You had the same expression when I had asked you of her as you do now."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, but this would give me further reason to not go through with this match. I would not want to remind you of the pain of your lost lover."

She made a motion to reach for the door but he pushed her hand away and pinned her to the wall. Before she could protest, he grabbed her chin and his lips were pressed against hers. Suddenly, Euphemia forgot about what she was going to do. All she wanted was the fiery need of touch. Their mouths were locked in an entirely new battle that was different from their usual verbal spar. She tried not to shudder at how his hand wandered from her chin to her neck, to her shoulders, to her waist and hip. Her hands were busy clawing at his back desperate with need. They seemed to be grinding against one another. Her leg hooked at his waist while his arm clutched tight at her leg. When she felt their arms wander at their bare flesh did Effie snap from the bliss.

She pushed the young lord off her and dashed out the door. She tried not to think about what happened and searched for the stables. She was so disoriented that she didn't know what was happening and didn't know where to go. After several wrong turns, she found her way outside and saw the horses. She found her brown mare, Sapphira, and beside her, a green cloak. It was windy. She put on the cloak and saddled up. The castle gates were open at the moment due to Jon hearing the peasants' pleas. So, she went straight out of Winterfell.

Despite being in despair, Effie memorized landmarks so she could find her way back. When she was entering the forest, she slowed her mare to a trot, until she stopped.

"Sapphira, why must he play with my feelings this way?" she whispered to her horse. "I'm trying to do what's best for everyone. Why must he be so difficult?"

"Because Northmen are difficult people,"

She spun her head behind her.

"I've worked with plenty of their lot in my travels," Aron was some feet away with his black and white steed. He and his horse were never loud. Plus the wind and snow muffled their sound.

"I was looking everywhere for you, my lady." He urged his horse closer. "You disappeared from the courtyard and wondered where you've been. Some saw you heading for the stables and when I found your mare gone…"

Effie turned away from him. She felt bad for leaving their session.

"I would ask what's wrong but it's clear your Lord Stark bothers you,"

"When are mother and father coming?" she inquired, ignoring the fact that he said 'your'.

"They will be here anytime soon. Now, tell me, Lady Effie," Though his father's nickname for her spread like wildfire in their island, Aron only ever used that nickname when he was serious.

"Haymitch, he's-" she began, unsure how to express herself. "He hated me because of my blood, Because my blood did wrong to him. Lannisters and Starks aren't meant to be, Aron. We leave nothing but blood on our trail when we clash-whether it be lion blood, wolf blood or any other blood,"

"Don't you think it's time you bring an end to that?" he merely suggested.

"I thought so, too, but the contempt-"

"Do you still see the contempt?"

She didn't say anything. She knew very well that his expression has changed in the long run. So she shook her head in dismay and her master-at-arms quirked his lips up.

"These Northern men are reserved people-concealing their emotions one way or another. But they are quite deep people. I see how the boy looks at you in training,"

Effie reddened. "H-he-"

"He's usually watching from a window,"

She didn't know what to make of that so she let out a squeaked sound.

"Like everything else," he continued. "Marriage isn't perfect. No relationship is perfect. But when you love someone truly, the imperfections are worth embracing,"

"You think he loves me Aron?"

"Aye. And I'm certain you love him, too,"

Euphemia nodded at that.

"Do I take the risk?"

"You can risk marrying the Stark boy or you can risk marrying someone else-either way, it's a risk, my lady,"

She nodded absentmindedly and a long silence followed.

"I think I'd like to go back now, Aron," she requested after the pause.

"Me, too, m'lady,"

As they turned to head back to the main road, men in horses appeared around them. It was just their luck to have the wind howl less when what they needed to hear before hand appeared.

"Who do we have here?" one of the men asked.

Euphemia looked to Aron and they had a silent conversation. _Study your surroundings. Study your opponents._

"Why is a lovely lady such as you wearing breeches?" another one said, licking his lips.

There were about almost a dozen men. They were all garbed in such a variety of garments that no one might have suggested they knew one another.

"Let's just kill the man and have her here and now. We'll just tell our master that she wasn't already a maiden when we got her,"

"I don't want to disobey master," the speaker seemed to shudder. "Let's-"

Aron's sword scraped against his scabbard and positioned himself for battle. Immediately, the men surged to them whilst clumsily drawing their weapon. She heard metal clashing. Then, something sloshed and gurgled.

"Run, m'lady," Aron barked.

She wanted to stay and fight. Aron had been part of the family since she was a child and she couldn't bear to leave him like this. But he barked at her again to go and she steered her horse away from him. Effie could feel tears sting her eyes and she looked back at her master-at-arms.

Her heart stopped as she saw her friend with a planted arrow at his throat. She whipped her head back to her path again but the image of the swordsman burned into her eyes. She would have spilled tears but arrows whizzed past her head and taunting shouts were behind her. She urged her horse to go faster. Slowly, she could see something ahead, some bushes that indicated the path. It grew larger and larger, when she felt her horse buckle- throwing her to the snowy ground. Sapphira's leg got shot. She got up and tried to run, but the men had caught up with her.

A few hours later back in Winterfell, Haymitch saw a scrawny boy running toward him.

"M'lord," he panted.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. Little Mill was always up to trouble. The ash blond twelve-year-old was the baker's son and he always liked to play. Sometimes, he tried to ask Haymitch to play but today, he was not in the mood.

"Breathe first, Mill. I swear you're going to die if you keep this up. And no, I don't want to get dragged into one of your misadventures. My day has been terrible,"

"But m'lord, it's-" he breathed out in a huff. "It's Lady Euphemia,"

He perked up but he kept his face disinterested.

"What of her?"

"M'lord, she's been taken,"

He felt his stomach lurch and like a man possessed, he shook the little boy by the shoulders.

"Who had taken her?"

"I-I don't know who they were, m'lord" he began to explain. "I followed them a bit, but a man emerged from the bushes- a man garbed in white except for his breast. It was crimson with a sigil of a yellow eagle,"

Haymitch's heart lurched.

 _Not again._

Haymitch took off the bird pin on his chest and gave it to the boy. He told him to go to Lady Sansa and Lord Jon and if anyone tried to stop him, he advised him to show them his pin. He would've given a letter but he couldn't waste time getting a parchment. He needed to save Lady Euphemia now.

When the boy left, the only detour he did was to get a sword from the courtyard. After that, he dashed to the stables like a madman and mounted his horse. He almost forgot to even put on a cloak, but he had to stay warm if he wanted to save Lady Euphemia. He had to get to her before it's too late. He couldn't live with himself if something happened to Lady Euphemia.

 **Author's Note: ERMEGERD! Hahaha! We're getting to the climax. Yeah, I'm being brave and have an action scene which I don't usually do because I'm afraid of action scenes. TwT Gonna be out of topic here but what do you peeps think of the new season of Game of Thrones? Weak beginning but they made up for it eventually. Especially episode 02 *wink wink* spoilers… hahahha anyway. It also reminds me how much of a sweet summer child my fanfic compared to the GRRM's world but well, YOLO XD I hope you guys still enjoy reading my green boy fic lol. Please do leave a review. It is much appreciated.**


	6. VI

It had been hours since Lord Jon and the raven had left, and even longer hours since her son had gone. Sansa was a mix of anxiety, guilt and fear. She felt stupid for letting such a thing happen in her own kingdom. She paced at the head of her hall. She wanted to go with the search but her husband told her to stay in the castle and meet with the Lannisters when they came. She hadn't wanted to face them alone but she supposed it was a punishment from the gods. She knew that Jaime Lannister was known to have a temper.

As if her thoughts were a spell, Jaime barged in the Great Hall.

"What," Jaime held out a piece of parchment crumpled in his only fist and threw it on the floor. "What is this, Sansa? You swore an oath to keep my daughter safe and now, you are telling me she has been abducted?" Jaime and Brienne had been still a little far off from Winterfell when they had received the raven. When they read the message, the lord and lady rode on to Winterfell as fast as they could-leaving their party and supplies to follow at their own pace. They hadn't seen Lord Jon's search party on their way so they headed straight for the castle.

"Lord Jaime, Lady Brienne, if you would-"

"My daughter is out there, probably freezing, dying, or-"

Jaime could not finish that statement. He could not imagine the horrors that had, have or will have befallen on her sweet child. So, he lashed out at Sansa again to remove the horrid images.

"I know we have had our differences in the past but do not take this out on my child. She is not like how you knew me- how you always view me,"

The red haired lady looked like she wanted to take offense but she knew that there are other pressing matters at hand and she had no time to argue with this man.

"Jaime," Brienne spoke calmly. "I know the situation is dire but lashing at Lady Sansa will prove unproductive. I know the lady tried her best to keep our daughter safe but unfortunate things happen even if you are most secure."

Lady Lannister made sure that her husband took a deep breath before speaking.

"What is the situation?" Brienne said before adding, "My apologies if I cut to business. This is my daughter's life on the line after all,"

Though Brienne sounded calm and steady, Sansa could tell the lady's rage engulfed her. Her fists shook and her jaw was clenched. Sansa felt truly afraid that Lady Brienne just might kill her, but Lady Stark remained calm and explained everything that the baker's son told them.

"One of my lord husband's men reported back to me and found the corpse of your master-at-arms at the woods," Sansa added.

Lady Brienne blinked rapidly. No tears fell but her blue eyes were shiny.

"Last I heard," Lady Sansa continued. "The search party is split in the deeper woods and the main road,"

"Thank you, my lady," Jaime stiffly bowed and turned back toward the doors.

Sansa stepped forward and Brienne shook her head.

"My lady, you would do well to stay here and send a raven if news came up,"

Sansa looked like she wanted to protest but she nodded instead.

"Lady Brienne," she called out. "I do sincerely apologize. I will pray for Lady Euphemia's safe return,"

"I believe you, Lady Sansa, and thank you," Brienne tried to smile reassuringly but it came out more tired. Still, Sansa took it as some sort of reassurance and offered to see the couple off.

 **-OOOOO-**

It was already nightfall. Haymitch had been riding for hours. His mind was half in fear for Euphemia. The other half was travelling back in time when Haymitch was 13- back when he thought he had found love.

Haymitch realized he had completely stopped-lost in the thoughts of the past. He shook it away and needed to focus on the present. But he didn't go on. He had to pause and think. He tapped his gloved hand on his thigh- trying to think of what else to do.

That's when he saw a puff of smoke in the thick of the woods to his left. He ordered his horse to head to that direction.

 **-OOOOO-**

Effie felt herself dropped on the snowy ground as if she were a sack of flour. She was drenched in dirt, sweat and tears by the time she reached camp. They had bound her, gagged her and put a sack over her head upon capture. She tried to put a defiant glare at them but the longer they traveled, the more her resolve crumbled. It was the mention of Aron that had reduced her to tears. They slapped her several times whenever she whimpered or sniffed out too loud.

"Captain, how many times must I tell you not to wear your uniform while we're on duty?"

Effie didn't recognize the voice. She had listened to the men during the travel to account the number of enemies she'd possibly face. It definitely sounded male. But unlike the others who were loud mouthed and crass, this one spoke like he were a proper highborn. He almost whispered-like a snake hissing.

"But master, I assure you, she didn't see me," another voice responded. That was the voice of the captain that met them a little after her capture. He sounded highborn enough but he was just as crass as the others. He had caressed her leg and would have gotten into her training breeches if the others had not voiced their fear for their master.

"Boy, get your cloak and hood. I would not risk anyone discovering your identity," their so called master ordered. She only heard a grunt and footsteps crunching away from her. After a short while, another set of footsteps that sounded closer became even more so. She felt a hand on her hips. Her breath hitched and she somehow slapped the hands away despite being tied up. The hand only withdrew and a voice chuckled.

"Another tough one I see,"

She could see a shadow looming over her from her sack and an overwhelming scent of roses.

"Don't worry, child. You will soon learn your place,"

His breath smelled like blood. No rose perfume could mask its rotting scent.

"Feed the child," she heard the man as he broke away from her, thankful for the scent leaving her.

The lady could smell cooked meat. Her stomach growled at the smell of it that she almost missed the blood breath. But what irked her most was that she didn't want to eat anything that these men gave her. She didn't want their hospitality. She just wanted to hear Aron's voice, her mother's awkward yet warm hugs, and her father's golden hand stroking her hair.

She wanted to be home.

Yet when they brought her supper, the smell overpowered her senses. They cut one hand free. _My right hand. Like father except those savages he met had missed the ropes._ She would have untied her other hand but she knew they were watching. So she just sat down trying not to get seduced by the smell of meat.

Eventually though, her hunger betrayed her resolve and it was all she could do not to eat like a brute.

After supper, Effie got her right hand tied up behind her again. Immediately after her hands were secured, she wanted to puke out every morsel of food she had taken. Guilt and rage taunted her to do it, but her will to live was even stronger. In her gut, she was hopeful that she'll escape somehow.

"Fetch the healer," she heard. It sounded like their master. "I want to see how much she's worth," A shudder went through her. She didn't want anyone to touch her, especially not them, especially not _there._

"That damn healer is out for a piss," said another voice and went on grumbling about getting an actual maester instead of that mummer. He pissed too often, he said.

After a long, agonizing time for Euphemia, she could feel that something was amiss. No one had checked her maidenhead yet and somehow it had gone quieter.

"Bloody," a man spat. "What was in that water that they had been gone so long?"

She heard footsteps crunch away.

 _Listen_ , she could hear Aron tell her. _Use your other senses._

Euphemia estimated about eight different voices talking- one man near her and their master and the captain among them.

Then she heard it- a gurgling sound like one she heard when Aron took an arrow to the neck.

The camp went still for a moment.

Then, she could hear the men scramble. She could hear wood cracking, some metal clanging and tinkling, leather slapping, even the man who seemed to be guarding her got up from his post. _This is my chance._

"It looks like Randin's arrows," the captain commented. "Did you think he-"

"Over there," the man who had been guarding her cut him off. "I see a shape in the tree over there,"

She heard them tread cautiously, their boots crunching ever so softly on the snow. So far, she heard only two voices. She had to make sure eight… or seven now maybe, if the gods were on her side. _Please gods. Blind them to my plans, oh seven. One for each of you. So I may escape._

"What if there are more?" another voice said. This one was the one who got the sniffles.

"If there are more, why didn't they attack us all right now?" said another voice, gruff that one. _Four._

"I should never take you unseasoned men for this," the captain spoke. "You're all cravens looking for easy money,"

"So, do you captain," another voice spat. _Five. This one's has a raspy voice and cusses a lot._

"At least I'm not-"

She could hear a slight scrape of metal but a voice broke over it.

"This is no time to bicker amongst yourselves," a voice hissed. _Six. The master._ "Why isn't our attacker making a move unless…" he hummed. It all seemed like a game to him, like he was playing _cyvasse._ Effie hated that game. Ironically, she should be good at it, seeing as how she is organized, thinks ahead and oversees possible problems encountered, but somehow, staring at a still board for hours drove her insane. But this man, he sounded like someone whose whole world was a _cyvasse_ game.

"Randin was the first one to go out to the woods," she heard the master murmur.

"So?" a new voice spoke. It was higher than everyone's. _Seven._ "What does it matter?"

While they were bickering amongst themselves, Effie was slowly scooting her way backwards. She felt the heat getting more and more intense until she could almost feel its direct effect. Effie, then, shoved her tied hands behind her. Flames licked at her wrists, searing pain burning her flesh. Even if she kept on adjusting her hands and pulling it away often to avoid rendering her hands useless, she bit hard on her lip. _It would be quite a laugh. Euphemia Lannister carrying the family tradition._ She would have laughed but the pain was searing. Her mouth was filled with blood. She probably smells like their master now.

"What are you doing?" Euphemia could hear footsteps crunching towards her. Most of her ropes had melted. Aron had blindfolded her a few times for training. She was getting better but she still couldn't match even an eighth of her master-at-arms' skill. She always miscalculated.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, as his shadow loomed over her. She was grabbed by her waist and hoisted by the man. Effie began to panic. Her ropes hadn't fully broken apart yet but perhaps if she had a little more time.

"Can't have your pretty little arse escape," her captor said as he squeezed her bottom. She was tired of being treated like some prize. Effie forcibly pulled apart her hands-the ropes chafing against her skin, burning her skin even further. Her bonds broke and one of her elbows hit her captor's face. The momentary shock allowed her to elbow his face again- harder this time- causing him to slump and allow her to slide downward. She shielded her face with her hands before hitting the ground and rolled. She yanked the sack off her head immediately and saw her captor glaring at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a wooden pole and yanked it from its spot. Her captor charged toward her but she was quick and well-trained. She bashed his head with the pole then smashed it again before he could even react. She repeatedly struck him until he laid still. Only after she took a sword from him did Effie scan her surroundings. Most of them were arguing amongst themselves, their attention on a certain part of the woods. It seemed as if they cared little for her to leave her only with one guard. She was lucky that the sword she got was lighter than the standard sword. As quiet as a mouse, she tiptoed toward a horse she spotted not too far away.

"Do you think Damion will be fine back there?"

Effie felt panic rise within her. She knew it was the guard she had just killed. Instinctively, her clutch on the hilt of the sword she stole from the unconscious man tightened. But before she could start running, the master spoke a name-a name she never thought she'd hear once more. It made her stop in her tracks.

"What brings you here, Lord Stark?"

"Maybe I just fancy spilling someone's blood?"

The young lioness turned around to see if her ears were lying. But there he stood, Haymitch of House Stark, messy unkempt curls, mischievous glint in his steel eyes, and clad in what he had been wearing the last time she saw him. He was also sweaty and probably pissed his own breeches (Effie mused and it gave her small comfort), but she never saw him more gallant than he does now. Against her better judgment, she took a step closer and closer until she was near the closest tree behind them. She finally listened to her senses, albeit only a little, and hid behind there.

"Perhaps you fancy another bed slave, Lord Stark," the master taunted him but Haymitch looked unfazed.

"Who says I'm in need of a whore?" Haymitch replied, crass as ever.

The Stark was taller than all of her captors. She could see his eyes sweep over his enemies. It seemed their gazes met but she wasn't sure. If he indeed saw her, he gave no sign.

"You gave Alan Lannister quite a headache," the master stated nonchalantly.

"I made sure it ended pretty quickly," Haymitch replied with seemingly the same indifference, but she noticed the twitch of his lips as he had spoken. There was rage contained in it. The master seemed more amused with his reaction and chuckled.

"Well I'm sorry Lord Stark," the master spoke in his low dangerous tone. "But I'll do the same to you."

It was as if her body had a mind of its own and sprinted toward danger. She spotted the first one to draw steel and stabbed him.

Effie was hit with a moment of numbness.

Then, the realization of what she did washed down on her like a waterfall from out of nowhere.

 _I killed a man._

Effie felt her body still but her mind was buzzing with those four words. It took the men aback, too, because no one was attacking. She was left in a trance that she didn't know she would wake up from.

"Stupid Lannister," she could hear someone say, then she felt herself being dragged and it jolted her awake from her trance. "I was trying to buy you time so you could get away."

"I couldn't leave you," she stuttered.

"Lannister."

They turned to the direction of the voice. Effie saw that the master was a small man- smaller even than Effie. His hair was almost completely white save for the few streaks of dark here and there. He looked to be in his 60s. He didn't seem threatening until you gaze into his milky gray eyes.

"Coriolanus Snow," Haymitch declared. "Claimed to be Roose Bolton's bastard brother. He's a high ranking officer of the order of the yellow eagles. They were supposed to keep peace at the trident."

"Lady Lannister," the Bolton bastard bowed. She knew of the Boltons- completely vanquished upon the decent of the White Walkers- Roose and his bastard son both. She never knew there was a bastard left though.

"I do apologize. My help is quite incompetent and I am quite new at this game," Coriolanus went on. "Forgive me but you don't look like a Lannister."

"I am Euphemia Lannister of Tarth," and Effie made a show of her blade. Haymitch and the others followed and she was afraid a fight will go out, but Snow laughed and it threw everyone off guard.

"Ah, Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime's brood. I see it now. But I'm quite surprised Lord Stark."

She could feel Haymitch's anger heating beside her and she was suddenly terrified of him, of what he'd do. Snow only sighed at that.

"Our talk has gone long enough though. No word of my activities should reach the dragon queen."

And the men charged.

Effie drew her sword up and managed to block a blow from an attacker. She kicked him between his legs and blocked another incoming blow. This one was fast and aggressive. She knew their types. Aron told her of them once. She just has to keep blocking until he grew exhausted and then she can make a strike. But this wasn't a one-on-one dance and she knew another attacker would be upon her once more, and assuming a chance would come- she felt herself freeze up as the images of the blood that flowered from the man's back came into mind.

"Fuck," she heard someone beside him and the man before her lay dead on her feet.

"Get yourself together, Lannister. I've killed, too."

His commanding voice was enough to snap her back to attention. Three fighters left and the Captain and Snow were nowhere to be seen.

"Yield and the North will show you mercy," Effie declared.

"The North will not," Haymitch refuted.

"I'm trying to make it easier here."

"No," spoke a handsome young boy with black hair that seemed to shine purple. "Ser Snow trusts us with this task."

Steel clashed and clanged and it was a whirlwind. They were left with more skilled fighters now and Effie's arms began to tire out. She had misjudged a move and the enemy blade grazed against her arm. She bit back by cutting his leg causing him to limp. From the corner of the eye, she could see Haymitch begin to tire out. He was looking out for her so he always redirected the attention of one attacker so Effie will only have to fight one. But even she couldn't dwell on how chivalrous it was because she was too occupied by the purple haired boy who has given her more wounds than she did.

"I could have taken you for my own if they hadn't stopped me. Maybe killing you would have more satisfaction than-"

They could hear the pounding of horses from the distance. Euphemia could feel her heart race. _Has Coriolanus sent for reinforcements?_ Her opponent smiled in glee as they danced in steel.

"There they are," a commanding voice boomed.

Euphemia's heart leapt as she glimpsed the Stark banners from her peripheral vision. The purple haired boy grimaced and it was just enough for Effie to see a chance and she stabbed his leg through.

"Yield!" a voice boomed and it was as if it was the magic word that made them all collapse to the ground- their opponents in fear, Euphemia and Haymitch in exhaustion.

Effie turned her head slowly to her right and met Haymitch's gaze. For the first time, his gaze was silver, and it shone fear, yet there was also happiness and relief. It was the last thing Effie saw before everything turned to black.

 **Author's Note: School starts for me on June 13 so I updated early. OMG! I'm honestly not sure if I wrote that fight scene right. Ehemeged fite scene. I tried to research how to fight but I got confused so I just went with my gut and made the fight as vague as possible hahahah.**

 **On other news, Game of Thrones Season 06 Episode 8 OH MY GODS THAT EPISODE KILLED ME WITH HAPPY FEELS (This is why I decided to keep the first part even though it was filler-y. DEDICATED TO MY BABIES LADY BRI AND SER JAIME. I literally giggled when I was writing that first part)**

 **Okay, now that I've got that out, I hope you enjoyed reading. Please read and review. They are love and life and air to me. :D**


	7. VII

Beads of seawater dripped on Effie's naked body as she bobbed on the surface of the sea. Beyond the glinting sapphire waters of Tarth's beach, she saw her parents waving at her from the shore. Beside her, the water gurgled and she saw Haymitch coming up the surface.

"Princess," he whispered huskily and grabbed her waist. She leaned closer and lightly bit on his earlobe.

"You are such a beast, my lord. Perhaps later, my parents are watching,"

She turned to the shore, conscious about her parents watching her.

But everything was hued an angry red.

And dagger blades sprouted from her parents' stomach. She looked back at her betrothed but instead, it was the purple haired boy who held her.

"I could have taken you for my own if they hadn't stopped me. Maybe killing you would have more satisfaction than-"

Euphemia screamed.

"Effie, sweetling."

Effie blinked rapidly. Her surroundings were dim. The gruesome images still swirled in her vision but it slowly disappeared. She found herself back in her chambers in Winterfell. She whipped her head to the right and saw her father's worn face. He seemed to have age ten years forward- more silver in his hair than usual.

"Where is mother?" she croaked. Effie's throat felt dry and sore.

"She has been resting back in her chambers. I could scarce believe you slept through all that arguing," her father began joke weakly. "Your lady mother had been adamant on staying since she was the mother. Of course, her yawn-"

Effie tackled her father and began to sob hard. Jaime didn't say anything but simply rubbed her back with his golden hand. Although her parents were protective, they weren't one to tell her everything was going to be fine. They knew she was not fine and it will be long until she would be. They have only ever comforted by being there.

"I am going to send someone to fetch your lady mother," Jaime said when his daughter was reduced to sniffles.

When her lady mother arrived, she thought she had released all her tears. But seeing her mother's shiny, expressive blue eyes made her break down once more. She was muttering about how sorry she was about Aron. Both her parents held her tight.

For several days, Effie still had a fever and Jaime and Brienne scarcely left her room. Effie has had constant nightmares ever since she woke. So her parents stayed with her and held her when she needed assurance that it was all just a dream. Servants came in and gave them food. They only left if they needed to use the privy or if their men truly needed them. Lady Sansa visited once, but it was a brief visit. Her son needed her, she said. Lord Jon was a more frequent visitor, telling her news of Haymitch. The young Stark was asleep longer than she was. Nonstop riding and fighting off two enemies at once took a toll on the young Northern lord. Sometimes, they'd ask if the bastard, Coriolanus was found yet. The man had somehow escaped them. But Jon only shook his head in dismay.

Several days after she awoke, Lord Jon came in with a smile.

"He's awake," he announced.

Euphemia whipped her head to her parents.

"Mother, Father, may I go see him," Effie spoke, more clearly than she did before. She was almost better. She could actually sit up now without her head spinning too much.

"Not yet, sweetling. You are still not better," her mother chided.

"But I am," Effie protested. "I want to see my beloved."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "Gods, I forgot how fussy you become when you're sick. Effie, my sweet, not now okay?"

"But-"

"Listen to your father, Euphemia."

The girl groaned and flopped to her bed.

"My son is going to have a tough time with this one," Jon remarked which earned him a glare from Jaime. Jon ignored him and focused on Euphemia instead. "Your parents are right though. Haymitch is still unwell and so are you. But I promise you, you will see him soon enough."

The little Lannister nodded at that and Jon excused himself.

When the older Stark left, there came a long suffering silence.

"What is this about breaking off the marriage?" Brienne finally spoke. She asked this almost detachedly, but Effie had felt that her parents have known beforehand and were waiting to bring the subject up.

"Lord Haymitch and I did not get along at first. Lannister and Stark blood have been enemies for years and it seemed that there was no other way to heal," Euphemia explained and Jaime seemed to avert his gaze. She knew guilt welled up inside him. He was thinking of when he had pushed Bran Stark out the window, of Joffrey, that monster that have come out of his seed, and the overall grief he and his family did to the Starks. But only he and Tyrion were left from that family, and they sought to change the Lannisters.

"But there is hope, Father. Against the odds, we grew to love. There is hope that one day these two Houses will unite and bring forth glorious descendants that will be written down in history. I am surer now more than ever that I love Haymitch. And Haymitch loves me. And together, we shall unite two great Houses and prove that anything is possible."

Her father smiled at her proudly.

That night, Effie woke up from a nightmare. This time, however, she did not scream. She blinked away the nightmares on her own. After some time, Effie could not get back to sleep no matter how much she tossed and turned. Her mother lay beside her, while her father slept on a plush chair next to her bed, his forehead resting forward on the bed. Usually, she would have her parents rub her back and pet her hair until she slept, but she didn't want to bother them. Instead, she got up and crept away from her room.

She had stayed in Winterfell long enough to know its twists and turns. The halls weren't well lit but she still knew. She made her way to her favorite spot- the wide window that oversaw the most beautiful sceneries of Winterfell- and approached it with tentative steps.

"Lady Lannister."

She jumped and turned around. Behind her was an almost incomprehensible figure.

"Did I startle you, my lady?"

It took her a while to make out the figure in the dark.

"Lord Stark."

She did a clumsy curtsy- too tired to even care.

"You should be back in your chambers, my lord. You just woke up."

Effie finally made out what he looked in the light. Haymitch was huddled in blankets, his dark hair disheveled even more than usual, his once steel eyes gray as stone, though somehow, there was silver in it, despite the heavy shadows under his eyes.

"I have stayed in my bed too long. I am certain you would agree. Am I correct, my lady?"

He was met with nothing but her blush, and the young Lord Stark chuckled at that. He walked with heavy footfalls toward the window and sat on the sill.

"Come, my lady," Lord Haymitch invited, patting the space beside him.

"Quite a gentleman," Lady Euphemia deadpanned but the red on her face grew fiercer. She walked to him and took the place across him.

They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until Haymitch cleared his throat.

"I apologize if-"

"No need, Haymitch," The use of his first name left a strange taste in Effie's mouth. It was a good kind of strange. "It was foolish of me to have ridden off on my own, knowing fully well of the dangers lurking outside the walls of Winterfell. What is done is done and I am glad that you are alive."

"Your-"

"Aron died a brave death. I do not care at the moment of what had happened. I am too tired to even feel the guilt. Perhaps we can talk of this later, but I am content now."

"What does my lady want as some atonement for my sins?" Haymitch tried to sound casual but she knew there was apology beneath it, and a hint of innuendo. The way he slightly tilts his head downwards is a telltale sign, and the mischievous glint in his eyes told the latter bit.

"Just the fact that you are alive is atonement enough."

The young lord merely grunted in reply. They grew quiet once more. Sleep began to catch up with Effie and she began to close her eyes. She could hear shuffling in front of her. Warmth and shadows grew closer until she could feel his fevered breath close to her face.

She didn't protest when his lips pressed on hers. She only peered to see if it as truly him and not some intruder coming to take her away. It wasn't even a heated kiss. Their lips were just still, only the warmth of comfort being exchange between them. When Haymitch finally broke, they both leaned back against the window pane- his sides against Effie, who complained about how heavy he was. He plainly laughed at her.

"Just humor me this once, my sweet. After all, I saved your arse."

Effie huffed, but her frown turned into small smile.

"Perhaps, my lord should get sick often," she mused. "You become a puppy."

"You are cruel, my princess. You would starve me and make me ill for your evil purposes," he leaned heavier on her earning him a light slap.

"Get off me, Haymitch," Effie protested but she began laughing. Haymitch did as asked but Effie kept laughing. He didn't mind at all. He decided he loved the way her skin flushed, emphasizing each and every freckle lit under the moonlight. Suddenly, he found himself pulling her over him. Effie squealed and stared at him with her bright sapphire eyes. He was completely stunned by her eyes. _Gods be damned. I have never seen eyes more beautiful_.

"We are not doing this on the window sill," she chided as if he was a disobedient son. "You are not even well."

Haymitch looked at her confused. She seemed nonchalant with this sort of thing. It took a little while for Effie to understand his bafflement.

"I-I am not a maiden," she whispered shyly. "I-I hope that is fine with you."

Haymitch curled a possessive hand on her waist.

"I am yours and you are mine," he growled before kissing her hard. She responded eagerly. "That's all that matters now," he spoke again before going for another hard kiss, and his hands wandering everywhere. Effie met his passion with just as much ferocity- the lion and the wolf in a different sort of showdown, until she gently pushed him off.

"Lord husband, we are not consummating our marriage before our marriage."

Something told the young Stark she would gladly do so, but he was still recovering. So they pulled themselves up and this time, she leaned against him- both staying quiet for a long period, until Effie spoke.

"I still have nightmares about it," she suddenly whispered.

"I do, too. And other things…" he trailed off.

"Was it your beloved? The one killed by a Lannister?" she spoke carefully, as if treading on a verbal broken glass.

Haymitch thought he'd run away, close off, like he always does, but this time, he found himself clutching her tighter and his tale of a lost love pouring out from his mouth.

The young wolf was ten at the time and he was wandering around in a wildling village on his way to the Wall. His father had gone to some business in it so he was left by himself to do what he wants. Lord Jon never worried about him because whenever he was in the village, he was with his friend, Chaff. Chaff was ten-and-six, of average build but his body was built like an ox. Chaff was a freed Summer Islander slave who moved to the North for a change of scenery from the South. Chaff often got him into mischief and they always ended up running away from someone.

That day was no different.

He and his friend had run from a lady who they threw small pebbles at. Her husband helped in chasing and they both split off. After a long time, Haymitch turned to see that he had lost the husband. He snickered.

But his victory was short. Just as he was about to turn ahead to his path before him, he felt as if he crashed into the Wall- a wailing Wall.

"Do you have any idea how much these cost me!?" she turned to see a dark-haired, olive-skinned girl glare at him, around her, food splattered.

"I promise to pay you back," he barked.

They had exchanged many words that day. At first harsh and cruel, but by the end of the day, Haymitch and Lily became friends. And that was the start.

It was a prominent Wildling village so Lord Jon usually stayed long in that village on their way to the Wall. Haymitch was only ten when they first met but his father made trips to the Wall twice a year. So they visited the village four times a year.

Chaff had japed about being envious over Haymitch's new friend.

"But I'm your lover, boy," Chaff had slurred. His friend was a heavy drinker and when he was drunk, he often makes the strangest, ridiculous jests. Only the gods know why his father trusted this drunkard with a noble green boy like him. Haymitch knew Chaff had been eyeing the new arrival, Seeder, who was also from the Summer Isles. His pursue for Seeder was the only reason why he spent so much time with Lily.

"Though I suppose you need friends your age," he pointed out. "A drunk seventeen-year-old is hardly a healthy companion to a green boy of eleven,"

Chaff took another swig of his choice of poison that hour and wiped his mouth.

"Have you fucked her yet?" he spat.

To both their surprise, Haymitch punched Chaff in the face. Chaff stared at him in shock and for the first time, Haymitch was afraid the drunkard would hurt him bad, even kill him.

Then he noticed the man's shoulders shake. Next came the bark of laughter. He should have felt relieved that the ex-slave found him amusing. But all he thought of was the realization that he had fallen for Lily.

In his third visit that same year, he had told her how he felt.

He couldn't describe how his heart had leapt when she told him she loved him too.

In his first visit when he was three-and-ten, something in their relationship had changed. Suddenly their kisses turned to grabbing at their clothing and ripping it off their bodies. When their flesh was bare did Lily pull away.

"I-I'm a whore."

Lily's hadn't shed a tear. But he couldn't forget how her gray eyes glistened with held back tears as she recounted her story. She was a personal whore since she was nine. One of the prominent that resided in the Village had bought her from a slave trader. Although the queen had waged a war against slavery, she still had to extend her iron fist in the North, where her grasp isn't as firm. His parents have been trying to be the queen's iron fist, but this new group of slave traders was elusive and there wasn't much information on them.

Haymitch had grabbed his breeches, but Lily held his hand to stop it.

"It's fine," he had said, so softly and with gentleness he never knew he had. "If you don't-"

"I want to," she had whispered in his ear. And like a spell, he dropped his breeches in a trance and came at her with such passion.

It had been a blissful night.

That night, Lily felt like he could be trusted. So she had whispered to him something she remembered about a captain of the slave traders. They usually captured victims with a sack over their heads. It was a breathable sack but you couldn't see anything. Somehow, they were careless with her sack and saw the yellow eagle on crimson background on a white doublet. Another man had the same sigil but there was a white rose on his breast.

At the time, he didn't think much of what she said-only drunk on her. She even thanked those men because if it weren't for them, she wouldn't have met him. They were happy. But that happiness only lasted a while. The descriptions of the men only resurfaced and seared into his memory when Lily hadn't come see him when she was supposed to. He thought of how she had bruises all over her, believing she was clumsy, but he should have known that her master had abused her.

All he got that day was his lover's dead body, a Lannister cadaver with an axe lodged at his head, a cut stomach and blood that was his, Lily's and the Lannister's.

The same man that had taken Lily before will send Euphemia to the same fate. It was what kept him going- hunger and exhaustion and all. Haymitch felt better telling her all that but Euphemia felt her heart break for him. His tale left her speechless.

"I do not relish blood on my hands, but know that I will do what I will to protect the ones I love."

She kissed him at that admission.

"Indeed," Effie agreed. "This is a brutal world, but we will try to get as little blood as we can."

"Agreed," he hummed.

Then, they leaned against each other without a word, until they fell asleep, and for the first time, without bad dreams plaguing them.

 **Author's Note: I cri. ;-; I've had ups and downs with this fic. And to those who stuck through it, I'm grateful that you loved it even though I'm not very good with the world of Westeros. XD Anyway, please leave a review. I'd really appreciate it. 3 3 I love you guys. ;u;**

 **Ahfahfeotqn Just a bit of an epilogue. I'll post it like a week after because well, it's kinda short lol**


	8. Epilogue

Being Lady Stark was not easy. For one, the cold has lost its charm after several moons. It was beginning to creep deep into her bones. There were days that she wanted to ride a horse and go to the nearest port and sail back to Tarth. She still had nightmares about what had happened a year prior. Sometimes, she'd find her husband snaking his arms around her, sometimes, she'd find a cold, empty bed when her lord husband was on a trip to the Wall. Those days she would sit huddled on her favorite window sill and read.

It was easier when she bore her first child, Katniss Stark. She had Haymitch's look- ebony hair, steel eyes. There was almost no ounce of Euphemia in it except for the light freckles that dotted her skin that would be almost invisible due to her slightly darker complexion. Even as little Katniss grew older, she fancied running around and playing in dirt rather than being a lady. Wolf blood, Haymitch said. Rough around the edges, Euphemia argued. It only got worse when Gale Karstark became a ward of Winterfell. Effie was gone for two years for some business in the South and then in Tarth. When she returned, she was shocked at her eight-year-old daughter's steely looks. Luckily, she had sweet Primrose, her second born.

Two years born after her elder sister, Primrose Stark was Lannister-Tarth just as Katniss was Stark. Prim had pale, unmarred skin and had the Lannister golden locks and the Sapphire eyes of Tarth. She was sweet and lady-like when Katniss was wild and stubborn. Everyone who cast their eyes on sweet Prim would do anything for her, she knew, and that included her older sister. Although these two seem like a contrast, Katniss and Prim shared a deep bond.

Things were well. As well as they are in the Stark family.

Of course, things happen. And old enemies resurface- stronger and wiser.

 **Author's Note: Awww The End!~ I know it's short LOL. That's why I posted this about a week than a month.**

 **That cliffhanger dough. :P I have a general idea on what happens to them to be honest but I don't think I can take writing complicated war strategies and politics and fighting without wanting to jump off a cliff (to behonest, I almost did with this fic XD) cause I'm a perfectionist. I'm no George RR Martin (sadly). But I might write random short stories for this universe hahaha. I wrote a thing where Jaime was dying and Effie and the kids with Cinna and his kids, which was the original epilogue but it didn't feel right to be the epilogue. So I came up with this short thing instead.**

 **Let me take this moment to say thank you to all the readers whether active commenters or not. (Lol this author's note is gonna be longer than this chapter but whatever) Multi-chapter has never been my strongest suit but I'm glad to have finally delivered a finished multi-chapter and you have no idea how much of a big ego boost it is to me knowing that I can write multi-chapter (even if it's only 8-ish parts). To those who commented, thank you for your kind words and encouragement. They really mean so much to me. To those who left faves, votes, kudos, thank you for your wordless support. For the silent readers, thank you for reading, you are appreciated nonetheless. For those who probably read the story and didn't manage to continue because you didn't like a certain element of it, thank you still for taking time to read to whatever point you got.**

 **I hope to deliver longer and better multi-chapters in the future.**

 **I eagerly await your thoughts. =D**


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